


Let Me Go. It's Okay.

by brianaa_c



Category: Marvel, Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, I'm really sorry for this, Really really sorry, buckynat - Freeform, endgame spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-02-08 17:35:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18628015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brianaa_c/pseuds/brianaa_c
Summary: The title is exactly what you think it is. Bucky was never dusted and is assigned to the Vormir mission with Natasha instead of Clint, forcing them to face their past.ENDGAME SPOILERS!





	1. Let Me Go. It's Okay.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I've been really upset with Natasha's death, and I've seen a post (https://jazon-todd.tumblr.com/post/184495802800/bucky-should-have-never-been-dusted-and-it-should) that was a perfect idea as to how Natasha's death should have been handled. I reached out to the post maker and asked if I could write this. After permission, this is what I came up with. I'm crying, you're crying, we're all crying. It's okay, fandom will fix it.
> 
> FYI, the dialogue won't be exact. I can't remember word for word what Red Skull said sooo

They don't speak much. Not since the team decided they'd be the ones on the mission to Vormir for the soul stone. Not in the ship. Not as they landed. Not ever, really. 

Not since 1958, when they last saw each other in the Red Room. Natasha wasn't sure he remembered, and so she lets it go. Maybe when this is over...  _No._ She couldn't think like that. She needs to focus on the now. That's what the Winter Soldier would have told her, all those years ago. 

The seething look on his face is enough to let her know that Bucky knows the...  _thing_ in front of them, but she still has to ask. "Who are you?"

The man glances at her. "Consider me a guide. To you, and to all that seek the soul stone." 

"Oh, good," she says, not lowering widow's bite an inch. Bucky shifts beside her. "Tell us where it is and we'll be on our way." 

The man steps even closer, and Natasha can see his face is red. Her blood runs cold.  _Red Skull._ Steve told her about him. She thought he died. "If only it were that easy," he tells her. With that, he turns to walk away.

She side-glances at Bucky. He looks as if he wants to say something, but with a slight shake of his head, he takes off behind the Red Skull, giving Natasha no choice but to follow.

He leads them to a cliff, and Natasha is weary as she glances at the horizon. It would have been pretty if the man in front of them wasn't a ghost of a villain and she didn't have the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. She briefly wonders if Bucky has it, too.

"What you seek lies in front of you," he tells them. Natasha glances over the edge as he continues on. She feels Bucky walk up beside her before she sees him. "One of you for the other. In order to take the stone, you must lose what you love. An everlasting exchange. A soul for a soul." 

Natasha jerks her head up to look at Bucky, but he's already looking at her. "This is probably all bullshit," he finally speaks, crossing his arms across his chest. "I don't believe it." 

She still loved him. She was sure of it. But even if by some miracle he still remembered her from the Red Room, did he love her back? 

Natasha shakes her head. "I don't think so. Thanos came back  _with_ the stone  _without_ his daughter. That can't be a coincidence."

He falls silent. Turning his back to her, he lets out a curse under his breath, reaching up to dig his palms into his eyes. Natasha's eyes follow his back as he paces before they drop to her clasped hands, anxiety seeping into her nerves. Clint should have came. Or Steve. Or even Bruce. They loved her as much as someone _could_ love her; she could have sacrificed herself for them. It would have crushed them, but they would have carried-

"Whatever it takes," he finally speaks, pulling her out of her own thoughts. "I'll do it. I'll do it, and you'll get the stone." 

Her head snaps up to look at him, her eyes going wide. "What? No. You can't. That doesn't make any sense." 

"Come on, Natalia," he says, giving her a sad smile. Her blood runs cold at the name. "We always knew we'd never get our happy ending, even way back then." 

She can't breathe. She can't think, can't do anything but look at him, eyes wide, jaw on the floor. She doesn't even realize she takes a step toward him until he matches her movements, drawing nearer. "I- how... Do you remember?"

"Do  _you?_ _"_

What a loaded question. She finally forces herself to exhale, and she realizes just how much she's been waiting for this moment. Ever since she knew he was still alive. Ever since she saw him on that causeway. She thought she lost him forever, but here he is, and he  _remembers_. "Of course, I do," is all she can say, breathless. "I remember all of it." 

She can't help but jump when he takes her hand in his. She hasn't touched him like this since 1958. But then he squeezes gently, and the memories come flooding back. Joint missions. Discreet flirting. Hidden touches. Stolen kisses where the Red Room cameras wouldn't reach. Trashed hotel rooms. Torture. Him going on ice once they found out. It's too much for her, and she doesn't realize she's crying until she looks back up at him, her vision blurry. "So let me do this," he says gently, reaching his metal hand up to wipe at a stray tear on her cheek, but that only makes her cry harder. The Red Room robbed her of him. They stole him away from her. It's cruel that _this_ is the way she's finally getting him back. "I couldn't protect you then. Let me protect you now." 

A sob runs through her, and that's all it takes before Natasha is a weeping mess. He pulls her closer without hesitation, bending down to rest his forehead against hers. Suddenly they're back in the 1950s, where in the midst of violence and death, she felt safe and loved. The metal arm she grew to love way back when wraps around her, and she feels as if finally,  _finally_ she's home.  _This_ is what she was missing. And under the worst circumstances possible, she had him back. 

She's shaking as she reaches for the buckles on his chest, holding him to her, grounding herself. Hesitantly, she tilts her head up, brushing her lips against his.

They fit together like puzzle pieces. It's exactly the same as before; no,  _better_ than before. The fireworks were still there, and her knees still buckle, but he was his own man now. They were their own person. Their agency belonged to themselves. 

His lips are impossibly warm as he kisses her, dropping her hand to wrap his other arm around her waist. Natasha melts into him, and that hole in her heart, the one that was created the night she found him stored away and frozen in the Red Room, finally begins to heal. 

They break away all too soon, and he leans down to kiss her cheek. "Я люблю тебя," he murmurs in her ear. _I love you_. She waited decades to hear it again, and it's just as earth-shattering as she hoped it would be. 

Natasha's eyes remain closed as she hugs him to her, nuzzling into his neck, just like she did all those years ago. He still smelled exactly the same. "I love you, too," she whispers. She feels him squeeze her waist, and then his hands begin to soften. 

Her eyes fly open. Instantly, she recognizes the mistake of her words. And just like that, he lets her go, running to the edge of the cliff.

"No!"

Before she can even process what the  _hell_ she's doing, she raises a hand, shooting a widow's bite at his back. With a groan, he falls to his knees, tremors rocking through his body as the electricity travels its way through him. But she knows he's enhanced the way Steve is enhanced, and he won't be down long. With one more look, she sprints past him.  _She_ needs to do this, not him.

She hears him throw something behind her, and she doesn't realize it was a grenade before the ground in front of her explodes, knocking her off her feet, throwing her backward. Her ears are ringing and she's seeing double, but she can see enough to know Bucky is running past her, his eyes never leaving hers, and she has to get to her feet, _she_   _has to, dammit._

Her heart stops when she sees him go over the edge, and so she has no choice but to follow, wrapping her arm around his waist, using her free hand to release a grappling hook from her wrist, connecting it to Bucky's body as it locks into the cliff's stony edge. They fall until the cord goes stiff, and the tension is enough to make her let him go. But his metal arm is too fast, and he catches her,  _of course,_ he catches her. 

Bucky glances at his waist, where Natasha planted the grappling device, his eyes wide as they go back to hers. "Damn you," he tells her, tightening his grip on her arm when she lets him go. There's no way in hell he's letting her do this. He reaches his free hand down to her, doing his best to twist himself to get in reach of her other hand. "Come on," he winces as he gestures for her hand, the pressure from the tension in the rope growing greater. "Come  _on_ , Natalia." 

"No," she simply tells him, and with a groan he brings his hand back to the cord, the pressure too great. But the metal fingers grip her forearm tightly, and there's no way he's letting her go. Not like this. 

He can feel frustrated tears pinch the back of his eyes as he stares down at her. Her eyes are wet but they're clear and full of resolve. "Natalia,  _please_." He begs her, his voice breaking. She only shakes her head.

"Let me go," she tells him, her voice soft and warm. It briefly reminds him of their time in the Red Room, when she would tease him over his Russian. 

He grits his teeth, tightening his hold on her. He didn't care if he was causing bruises, as long as she was  _alive_. _"No,"_ he says through gritted teeth. The gears in his arm are whirring, and he knows his grip is probably too tight, but he  _needed_ to save her. "No. No, please. No." 

She smiles at him then, but her eyes are breaking his heart, and when her tears fall once more, they cause his to fall, too. 

Natasha nods at him. "It's okay," she murmurs. She tries to sound positive, but he can see the pain in trying to keep her smile on. His heart feels ripped from its chest all over again. That should be  _him_ in her position. Not like this. She shouldn't be dying  _like this_. He begins to pull her up with the metal arm that's holding her, but she digs her toe into the cliff, stopping him. 

"I already lived my life, James," she tells him, and the words pierce his heart. A life  _without him_. He  _should have been there_. "Let me give you the chance to live yours." 

He's shaking his head before she even finishes. They're both crying freely now, and he watches his tears fall past her, landing somewhere they both can't see. "Please. Natalia, I-" 

Quicker than he can react, she slaps a tiny EMP device, the same one she used on the causeway all those years ago, onto his arm. Instantly, the metal malfunctions and his hand opens without his consent, releasing her from his grip. "No!" He yells, desperately reaching for her with his flesh hand, but it was too late. He was too late. He has no choice but to watch her fall. The sky above him turns to blue, and in front of him appears the stone. 

* * *

Bucky feels lifeless as he steps back into the Avengers war room. He can't comprehend how his feet are moving him forward, and he can't bear to look at the lifeless woman in his arms. She should be alive.  _She should be alive._

Steve is the first one he sees, and Bucky has to tighten his jaw to not cry as he watches his friend take in the situation in front of him. He avoids everyone's eyes as he steps forward, lowering Natasha's body onto the table in front of him. He can't look anywhere but straight ahead. If he looks at any of them, if he looks at her, he knows he'll lose it. And that's not what Natasha would want. 

But Steve's hand comes to rest on his shoulder, and that's all it takes before he loses it. Bucky has to lean forward, gripping the table to not collapse. His shoulders shake, he can't catch his breath, and his vision blurs as tears rack through his body. He finally glances at her, her lips parted in a frozen exhale, her beautiful eyes closed. He reaches for her hand, cold in his as he brings it up to kiss it gently.

"I just got her back, Steve," he sobs, unable to breathe. "I finally got her back." 

Steve knows Bucky will tell him, one day, what he means. But now, all he can do is try to comfort his friend. "We'll find a way to bring her back, Buck. Just like we'll find a way to bring everyone else back." 

He can't bring himself to look away from her face. He should have said something, he should have  _said something_. He's been back in her life for years. He should have said  _something_. This should be him on the table, not her. He would have died for her ten times over.

"We better," Bucky finally says, setting her hand down, wiping at his eyes. "I don't know what I'll do if we don't." 

 


	2. All Coming Back to Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy fix-it day!

The final battle with Thanos and his army came and went.

Bucky was there. He felt like he was more of a zombie, going through the motions without his head or heart being in it, or a ghost, living in the past. But at least he was there. 

Tony died. Steve went back in the past to be with Peggy. Sam became Captain America. Everyone seemed to move on. 

But not him.

The first chance he got, Bucky went back to Vormir, volunteering to be the one to put the soul stone back. 

_"You can join her," the Red Skull told him, haunting him. "All you must do is sacrifice yourself for something you love._

_"The_ only  _thing I love is at the bottom of that damn cliff." Then, when there was no other solution, he grows impatient and irritable, turning to hurl the orange stone from the top of the cliff._

 _"Have your_ fucking  _stone back."_

He tried talking to Dr. Stephen Strange next. After days of begging and trying his best to sound convincing, he finally got the Dr. to break down. 

"If you go back in time, it will alter  _everything._ The ripple could potentially be so great, the world could be ended by the time you return," he tells Bucky when he goes undercover to meet with him, behind the back of his new work partner, Sam. "If you prevent her from going to Vormir in the first place, she might still die sometime between then and the new present. And even  _if_ she still lives, if you feel as deeply for her as you seem to, you should know she would never want you to jeopardize how the present is now to bring her back. I don't have to know her to know that." 

Eventually, they work something out. Dr. Strange will allow Bucky to go back in time for a certain amount of time before bringing him back, and he is not allowed to alter even  _one_ word, or touch, or action. And if he does, Bucky is never allowed to go back in time again. 

The first memory he decides to relive is when he first sees her. It was the late 1950s, and he remembers it was a Wednesday. He only remembered because of the peek he took at the mission report. He's been with the Red Room for who knows how long by this point, but it was the first day he was selected to train a woman in the Black Widow program. And the rest was history. 

Her hair was the first thing he noticed, just like it was before. She was pale but not sickly. Her face was flawless and beautiful, and just as he remembers, he's completely infatuated with her. 

Bucky remembers Dr. Strange's words. He doesn't take one step out of line; doesn't do anything differently. He trains her the same. Blocks every punch correctly, dodges every knife attack just like he remembered. He has to force himself to not take it further when she finally pushes him into a corner and tilts his head down and kisses him for the first time.  _God_ , he wants to kiss her back.

Briefly, he almost feels dirty when he relives the first time they sleep together, when he snuck into her room and she was still engaged to that asshole pilot. But it was  _his_ memories,  _his_ past  _too_ , and when he climbs through the window and sees her in that sheer pink nightgown, he wants to downright cry at how beautiful she is. He took this for granted. He wants to kick himself.

Natasha's eyes widen when she sees him. "You shouldn't  _be_ here," she says, even though she grabs him by the buckles at his chest on his uniform, pulling him close. "They'll kill you if they find out." 

"I don't care," he tells her, placing his hands on her waist. She's warm and soft under his touch. Damn, he misses her. 

She reaches for his face then, tilting his face down just enough to press her forehead to his. "I'm promised to someone else." 

He finds himself smirking. "I know. He's an ass." 

Natasha finally pulls him down to kiss him, her hands going to his hair as she pulls him down onto her bed, and he swears he's about to faint. He reaches down to push her nightgown up her body, and she makes quick work of his uniform, smiling into their kiss when the metal hand on her thigh tightens slightly, his fingers flexing into her soft skin. And it was even better the second time around, if that were even possible. 

It's not until the fight on the causeway in 2014 does he slip up. He thanks whatever god there is when Steve pushes Natasha out of the way, just in time before the grenade he shoots at them explodes against Steve's shield. He's sick to his stomach that Dr. Strange put him here, but this  _was_ a moment that he still shared with her, in some sick, twisted way. And so he powers on. 

It's almost weird to be reliving this memory with the information he knows now. He's Bucky Barnes, not simply the Winter Soldier. Not simply a tool of mass destruction. And he thanks the damn muzzle they have him in, because he can't help but smirk when Natasha gets a shot on him, shattering the glass of his goggles.  _She was always a perfect shot._

It feels exactly like training when he's sneaking around the streets of DC, trying to find where the hell she is. He has to force himself to even his breathing; she doesn't die,  _she doesn't die_. 

The hand that throws her into the car once her legs are wrapped around his neck is just a tad softer than it should have been, and she gets up unscathed. Natasha reaches into her sleeve and throws an EMP device at his arm, and  _fuck_ , he forgot how bad that hurt. He flexes his fingers and rolls his shoulder to get full movement back before stalking after her. Bucky knows what comes next. He has to shoot her, straight through the shoulder.  _Now would be a good time to beam me back,_ he thinks to himself, and where the  _hell_ was this fucking magic doctor? 

He tries to even his breathing as he sees her run by, but his finger is shaking on the trigger of his rifle and he has to shake his hand out. He was being a fucking wimp. He shot her before. She doesn't die, she doesn't  _die!_  He takes a deep breath. He counts to one... two...

And he took too long. Because in the corner of his eye, he sees Steve charging at him, and he has to throw a punch. No. No, no,  _no_. He fucked up. He fucked  _everything_ up. He didn't shoot her like he was supposed to.  _The ripple effect_. Dr. Strange is going to murder him, _if_ there's a Dr. Strange to get back to.

* * *

The first thing Bucky sees when he opens his eyes is an alarm clock staring back at him. 9:16 am. When the hell has he ever slept in until 9 am?

He reaches up to rub his eyes, blinking his vision into focus, assessing the room he was in. It seemed to be a bedroom, but he didn't know  _whose_ bedroom. The room was spacious and the ceilings were high, and one of the walls were floor-to-ceiling windows, and- wait. He squints, sitting up. Is that Stark tower? A fully  _in-tact_ Stark tower? Is he in Manhattan? 

"What the hell?" he says to himself, sitting up in the bed, suddenly realizing he was very, very naked under the impossibly soft sheets he found his way into. He looks down, and he doesn't miss the thick gold band on his ring finger as he fists the sheets in his hands. What the actual fuck. He was  _married_? 

 _Think_ ,  _Bucky. Think!_ He looks around the room for any indication on where the fuck he is or who the hell he's married to.

The first thing he sees the newest iPhone he remembers lying face down on the nightstand beside him. Okay. So he's in the present, that's good. The second thing he eyes is Steve's shield in the corner of the room, leaning up against an armchair. So he married Sam. Okay. It's not exactly the worse situation to be in.

The room is a mess, a lamp on the floor, stray feathers from what he's guessing is a pillow covering the bed and scattered across the wood floor. But his heart stalls when he sees a black lace bra carelessly left on a dresser, a matching pair of panties not far behind.

 _Fuck._ He cheated on Sam. He doesn't even  _remember_ getting married, but he's already the worst husband in the world. He reaches up to rub his forehead with a groan, the warm metal around his finger reminding him of his infidelity he doesn't even remember committing. 

A shower turning on pulls him out of his thoughts, and his head snaps to the sound of running water behind a closed door connected to the bedroom. Was that the woman he apparently slept with?

Cautiously, he makes his way out of the large bed, his foot coming into contact with a pair of boxers on the floor.  _Oh, thank god,_ he thinks as he quickly grabs them, and luckily, they fit perfectly. At least now he didn't have to face whoever was behind that door _completely_ bare. Holding his breath, he reaches for the doorknob, turning it as quietly as he can until he can see who's inside.

The first thing he sees is red hair. Her back is to him, but only one person has hair that red. And she was supposed to be dead. Gobsmacked, he pushes the door open wider, stepping into the spacious bathroom, his eyes impossibly wide as he stares at the woman in front of him.

"I didn't mean to wake you," Natasha says to him as she looks at him in the mirror, taking her hair down from her ponytail, tilting her hips back to pull her workout pants down her legs. "I know you hate skipping a workout, but you looked so peaceful. And you came back home so late last night, I figured you deserved to sleep in."

Normally, he'd either turn away out of respect or, if this were the 50s, step closer and help her out of the rest of her clothes, but he's too stunned to do either. And so he continues to stare, his mind not  _quite_ catching up to what's unfolding in front of him. He watches her smirk at him in the mirror, reaching down to the hem of her tank top, pulling it over her head, leaving her in her sports bra and underwear. He can't get enough oxygen to breathe.

"What's your deal?" She asks with a hint of a smirk when he continues to stare in silence, turning to face him, crossing her arms as she leans against the counter behind her. "You look like you've seen a ghost." 

He blinks at her, unable to compute her words. "You're supposed to be dead," he blurts out.

Her eyebrows shoot up. "Excuse me?"

"I-" Bucky can't find enough words to form complete sentences. "Where am I?"

Natasha looks at him like he has three heads. "We're at  _home_ ," she tells him, stepping closer. "Are you feeling okay? You look awfully pale." 

He knows confusion is pressed into the features of his face, but he can't stop glancing around.  _Home_. His eyes fall on a pair of rings sitting in a clear bowl on the counter; one was a wedding band, just like his, while the other had a diamond on it.  _An engagement ring._

Holy shit.

He wasn't married to  _Sam_. He was married to  _Natasha_.

"James," her smooth voice pulls him from his thoughts, laced with genuine concern and worry. A hand goes to his cheek, and he feels like he's about to faint. It was warm and solid and  _real_.

This was  _real_.

She was  _alive_. 

Tentatively, he reaches up, wrapping his fingers around her wrist. She was as warm as he remembered. There's a major possibility that he's dead. He messed up the past, and he could be dead. If this is what the afterlife is, he'd gladly accept it.

But this could  _also_ be the new reality his mistake created. 

"That's it," she suddenly says, patting her hand on his chest, brushing past him into the bedroom. "I'm calling Tony. Someone needs to make sure you don't have a concussion or something. You got your ass kicked last night."

"Wait," he suddenly finds words, reaching out to grab her waist, halting her in her movements. She turns back to him, concern etched into her forehead. "Um," he starts, clearing his throat. "Where's Sam?"

After a beat, she shrugs, apparently perfectly content in his arms. "I don't know, probably already on patrol. Why?"

"Without the shield?"

Her brows draw together, and it was her turn to be confused. "Why would he have the shield?"

Bucky blinks. "Why wouldn't he? He's Captain America now."

Natasha gives a short laugh, pushing his arms away from her, continuing her path to the phone he remembered from the nightstand. "I swear, you have amnesia." She turns back to him, flipping her smooth hair over her shoulder. " _You're_ Captain America, James. Steve gave you the shield when he retired and moved to the west coast with Sharon." 

What the fuck. 

He must be looking pale again because she rushes back to his side, grabbing his hands, leading him to the bed that was apparently  _their_ bed. "You're  _actually_ scaring me," she tells him, scooting closer to him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. He can feel the nail of her pointer finger run along a groove of his metal arm at his shoulder, and at least  _that_ was the same. "What the hell is going on with you? I haven't seen you this shaken since you fought that grizzly bear." 

Okay. A grizzly bear. He had to mentally bookmark that topic to revisit once he figures his life out. "I just," it's natural for his arms to find their way around her waist again. "I had the strangest dream. It felt so  _real_. I feel like I can't remember anything." 

"Well," she says, her eyes meeting his as they narrow at him. "You can tell me why I thought I was dead." 

"We... In my dream, we went to Vormir for the soul stone. You sacrificed yourself for me." He takes a breath. "It felt too real. Like I was living the reality of it."  _Technically not a lie_. 

She watches him. "Well, that's stupid," she finally huffs. "Why would we go together?"

Bucky can't help the way his lips tick up at her natural dry humor, but he still has so many questions that still need to be answered. "So if we didn't go, who went?"

"No one," she tells him, looking at him like he's crazy. "You seriously don't remember any of this? We went back in time to kill Thanos before he could sacrifice his daughter. And since we killed him before the initial snap, it never happened. Then we got married, Steve gave you the shield, and the rest is history."

He takes this new information in, word by word. Steve was with Sharon; he never went back for Peggy. Tony was still alive.  _Natasha_ was still alive. This was the best new reality he could have possibly asked for. 

A smile suddenly forms on his lips. "So we're married." He can't keep the giddiness out of his voice as she laughs at him.

Her eyes are sparkling. "You better believe it, baby." 

The thighs he learned to love over the decades circle around his waist, and she tips her hips forward, falling down onto the bed, taking Bucky with her. "If you want," she smiles up at him when he settles in on top of her. "We have our wedding on tape; we can watch it. It's way too soppy, but Tony's daughter filmed it, so at least there's some comedic relief in a five-year-old trying to hold a camera still."

Bucky snorts as a hand trails up a thigh locked tight around his abdomen. " _Morgan_ filmed our wedding?"

She rolls her eyes at him. "At least you can remember  _something_ ," she says, tightening her arms around his neck, unable to hide the slightest of smiles when he leans down to kiss her. 

Finally.  _Finally._ As he kisses her, slow and sweet, he realizes this is real. It's  _real_.  _This_ is the reality he created when he chose not to shoot Natasha on that causeway. Something between then and now was drastically different because she was his wife. His  _wife_. He had no idea how the hell she convinced her to  _marry_ him, but here they are, rolling around on  _their_ bed, and he kisses her until he can no longer breathe. 

"So what do you say?" She pants, her voice airy as his mouth goes to her jaw, kissing her there. She was his wife. She was his to kiss as long as she'd let him. "We watch the most mawkish wedding in Avengers history, and then go tag team a criminal to get our tough reputations back?" She jokes with a shrug. 

He ponders briefly about her offer. "Maybe later," he tells her, his fingers sneaking under the band of her sports bra. Natasha shivers under him and her legs tighten around his waist, a smile appearing on her face as he pulls back to look at her. He can't wait to explore her all over again, and the thought alone makes him grin like a madman. "I'd rather relive the honeymoon first." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't watched Dr. Strange so I have no idea how his time travel worked, so I made this all up as I went.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed!

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry. The Russos are bitches.


End file.
